


For the World is Hollow and I Have Touched the Sky

by spacemonkey



Category: U2
Genre: Archangels, Crack, Heaven AU, M/M, possible blasphemy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-25
Updated: 2017-02-25
Packaged: 2018-09-26 20:36:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9921242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacemonkey/pseuds/spacemonkey
Summary: Long ago, during a time when time did not yet exist, in the clouds above where Earth had not yet been created, there lived an Archangel named Bono.Heaven AU, set . . . during a time when time did not yet exist.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MissEllaVation](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissEllaVation/gifts).



> I am going to Hell.
> 
> ...but we all knew that, didn't we. So I wrote this, all of this, tonight. ALL. OF. THIS. I may be losing my mind. In fact, I am sure of it. But once the inspiration came, I had to. This fic came about after a post on tumblr where PJ, I think it was, posted a picture of Hot Fallen Lucifer, noting how it looked like Bono. And I made up a silly little thing and we all laughed about it, and it was fine, the end, nothing else to see here, folks.
> 
>  
> 
> ...I am going to Hell. And actually, I feel the need to say sorry to the U2 fandom for inflicting so much new Bedge these past few days, because I know y'all have got your own shit to do and feel obligated to read all of it....like, take your time, honestly. Don't feel bad. I am fine. Fine. FINE. I love you all dearly. The title comes from Star Trek TOS, and man alive I have been waiting for months to use it as a title, so I'm feeling rather giddy right now. Also, I am pretty sure this is my 30th U2 fic, which is insane. . . I am marking such a milestone with blasphemous AU slashfic. Oh my Father. . .

Long ago, during a time when time did not yet exist, in the clouds above where Earth had not yet been created, there lived an Archangel named Bono. 

Bono was kind and loving, with bright blue eyes that the fellow Archangel Edge often found himself lost in, though he would never admit such a thing, because it was, frankly, a little odd. At least, that is what the Archangel Adam had said when Edge had confided in him, in hushed tones, lest anyone - lest their Father most of all - happen upon the conversation and get the wrong idea. 

“Could it be that you just admire him, deeply?” Adam whispered in Edge’s ear while they waited for their Father to grace them with His presence. “After all, he is very kind and loving, and of course, the most beautiful of all beings in Heaven, despite Larry’s objection on that matter. But we all know that Larry doth protest too much.” With that said, Adam began to laugh, and although Edge was unsure of what, exactly, was so funny, he too laughed - though it was short, unsure and a little awkward. “I mean, we all know Bono is the favourite - and for good reason, I might add, for our Father will admit without prompting that he took extra care in creating Bono.”

“Father has told you that?”

Adam paused. “Well, no, but Larry told me as such. Though, I admit, he seemed in poor spirits when those words were uttered.”

Edge sighed. They were getting nowhere. “Adam, it is true that Bono is kind and loving, and yes, he is beautiful - the sort of beauty that comes from within as much as from his appearance, but it is none of those things that have me preoccupied. It is more  . . .”

“More what?”

“Well . . .” Edge sighed once more. “I do not know exactly what it is. All I know is the feeling that I have when he is around is just not . . . normal.”

“Well, can you describe the feeling?”

Edge was not sure it could be described. But he would try, nonetheless. “It is like a . . . burning sensation deep within my belly. And low. It is deep and low, and I feel it only when he is around.”

“Hmm,” said Adam. “That sounds serious. You should probably get that checked out, it could be a problem with your Grace.”

Edge did not think it was Grace related, not in the least, but still he said, “Perhaps,” though as the word left his lips, he became most distracted indeed. For coming toward them was the Archangel Bono.

“My wings were tingling,” said Bono in lieu of a greeting. “Was my name being uttered, by chance?”

“It might have been,” Adam said coyly. Shifting in his seat, Edge found himself studying the cloud they were perched upon rather intently. “We were just discussing how late you were.”

“Oh.” Bono’s brow furrowed. “What does  _ late  _ mean?” he asked, as not only was Bono kind, loving and beautiful, but he was also curious. In a way that was sometimes not entirely appreciated by their Father. 

Adam smiled. “Come with me when Father next leaves His office. I will show you.”

“I do not think that is wise,” said Edge, but his words fell on deaf ears.

“Sounds like a plan. Speaking of Father . . .” Bono glanced around the cloud, waving at a random angel in the distance before turning his attention back to Edge. “Has He not made an appearance yet?”

“No, are you surprised?” Adam said with a laugh, but Bono’s gaze remained on Edge. It left Edge feeling . . . odd. “Pull up a seat, He should not be too far away, I hope.”

And He was not, for it was as Bono was taking a seat that their Father chose to grace them all with His appearance. There was a spattering of applause, and then the crowd fell silent.  
  


My children,” said Paul, “Lend me your ears and keep your voices down, please. You three in the back, I am sure you think I cannot hear you, but you should know by now that I hear all.” 

It was something He said often, and yet sometimes Edge found himself doubting such words, for he had heard Bono and Larry, certainly, and sometimes even Adam, say things about their Father that, had they been heard, would result in the most severe of punishments. 

Edge had always thought it best to keep his mouth shut. It was the best way to ensure that their family dinners went smoothly, after all.

With silence abounding, Paul offered them all a smile, clapping His hands as He stepped forward. “Alright, big news, huge news! I have just received word that the plans for my newest project has been approved, and by that I, of course, mean that I and I alone have approved them, for I am, of course, your Almighty God and there is no voice higher than My own.”

Besides a few titters throughout, the crowd had little reaction, for it was often that their Father reminded them of His position. Still, He surveyed the crowd as though He was looking for a certain response, and when said response was not found, His Almighty gaze landed squarely on the three of them. “My sons,” Paul said. “Where is Larry?”

Adam shrugged. “He had a thing.”

“I see,” Paul said. “Well, be sure to pass this information on to him when you see him next, Adam, for it is My wish that the two of you head this project.”

This interested Adam somewhat. It even made him sit up straighter, though his arms remained crossed. “Really? And what is this project, if I may ask that of you, Father.”

“You may,” said Paul. There was a sparkle in His eye, and He looked more lively than Edge had seen Him in quite some time. “So there I was looking down from the clouds, onto the vast space of nothingness, when it occurred to Me, your Almighty God, that perhaps something could fill that vast space of nothingness.”

Bono’s eyes lit up. “Am I finally to get my dream of-”

“No, Bono, we have been over this and, economically, it still does not seem wise,” said Paul, patiently, and though Bono slumped down slightly in his seat he still seemed curious as to what plans their Father had for that big, empty space. Mostly. “Anyway, I think you are going to love what I have planned.”

“Well, what is it then,” said Adam as he picked at an errant feather.

Their Father smiled, clapping His hands together once more before saying, “I am to create a world called Earth, and it will be covered in water and . . .and trees, and . . . well, I have not really thought it through entirely, but the project has been approved, by Me, so I will be starting that almost immediately. With Larry and Adam’s help, of course.”

There was another spattering of applause.

“Right,” said Adam. “And what, exactly, is a world?”

Their Father gave Adam a  _ look _ . “I hear your tone, my son, and I do not appreciate it.”

“Sorry,” said Adam, though he was not sorry in the least.

“You are forgiven,” said Paul. “And to answer your question, a world is . . . well, it is this big, round thing and, like I said, it will have water and trees - I will explain those things to you at a later date, my children, for I am a kind and giving God.”

“Amen,” spoketh all of the angels.

Paul continued, “I was also thinking that perhaps some light would be good, and I suppose, at a later date we could think to fill the Earth with something other than plants and trees-”

“Like angels?” Bono cut in, somewhat excitedly. “Perhaps even Archangels? Oh Father, let me be a part of this Earth, for I love it already, I swear I do.”

“No, Bono,” said Paul, “Your path is here, as it always has been.”

Bono remained undeterred. “Well, could I at least help in the creation?”

“No, Bono,” said Paul once more, and His tone was not nearly as kind. “Your path is here, as it always has been.”

Bono scowled. “You always say that, and yet still I am unsure. What is it You want me to do exactly? I am bored, Father!” 

There was a murmuring among the crowed, and as Bono and their Father looked upon each other, Edge found himself wishing as though he was anywhere else at all. 

Adam, on the other hand, seemed mostly amused.

“Well, you have your music,” said Paul. “That is always nice. You know it pleases your Father when you play your little harp. And it pleases the rest of the angels too, right?”

The crowd murmured once more, sounding mostly appreciative.

“Right,” said Bono, rubbing his brow. “My music. Yes. I will continue on with that. Thank you, Father, as always for gifting me with such talent.”

“You are most welcome, my son,” said Paul. “Alright, so that is settled then. We are to have an Earth and it will be good. My word is so. You are all dismissed, though - Adam. A word?”

“Oh, great,” Adam grumbled, but he left his seat and followed their Father nonetheless. Around them, the crowd began to disperse, but Bono remained seated. 

“Music, Edge,” he said with a snort. “Is that all I am good for? Is that truly my path?”

Edge was unsure of how to respond, for he had never encountered such doubt before. After all, he had never questioned his path, for he remembered it well; it was, as always, to follow Bono and support him whichever way the both of them deemed proper.

Edge took his path very seriously.

“Well,” said Edge, “I mean, you are also the most beautiful of angels. That must count for something.”

“Am I though?” Bono asked, his expression sour. “I hear as such uttered often, and yet, when I look in the mirror I cannot see it. I have doubts, Edge, I have so many doubts.”

“About the way you look?”

“Well, yes,” Bono said, “But also, you know . . . oh, it does not matter. I have my harp, and that should be enough. Well, I have you too, but I cannot play you now, can I?”

Edge paused. “Um . . . _no_ ?”

“No, of course not,” Bono muttered, and they lapsed into silence. Around them, angels continued to mile about, and inside Edge was feeling that burning sensation once more, deep inside. “Larry thinks he is more beautiful than I, and I have to agree with him.”

Edge was shaking his head before Bono even finished speaking. “No, Larry is - well, I suppose he may be more conventionally beautiful, but when Father speaks of beauty He is including what is inside of you as well as. . . your face. Your Grace, Bono, it shines brighter than any of the angels, and Father knows that better than all of us. Supposedly.”

Bono smiled warmly. “So you think I am beautiful, Edge?”

“Of course, how could I not when Father deems it so?” Edge responded, causing Bono to turn away and chuckle. Under his breath, Edge darkly added, “And the thoughts that occur when I glance at your behind are neither pure nor fair,” though he was not sure why exactly, and immediately he knew it was a mistake.

“Hmm?”

“Nothing, nevermind, it is of no importance.” Edge stood up quickly. “Is that the voice of Larry I hear calling me?”

“I heard noth-

With his voice as loud as it had perhaps ever been, Edge shouted, “Farewell!” in Bono’s face before promptly flouncing to another cloud.

Time passed, in a manner of speaking, as although it did not yet exist in a formal sense, rumors of its existence had started to spread through the Heavens. It seemed as though Father had not yet quite perfected time, though, and as such was nervous about presenting it to the masses. Edge understood completely, as it was in his nature to strive for perfection - and also, he was not entirely sure, but he had a niggling sensation that they had all been set in reverse for a while there, and Father had chosen not to show his face since. Time, it seemed, was a tricky thing to perfect, even if Edge still was not entirely sure what it was.

Still, during that time Adam and Larry were scarce, and though they were meant to be helping Father with the creation of Earth, Edge had a funny feeling they were up to something else entirely, for the creation seemed to be taking place mostly when Adam and Larry were elsewhere, and often Edge found himself glancing over Bono’s shoulder, watching the world come to be, as Bono mentioned his dreams and his wants, and most of all his desires, and those were the things that piqued Edge’s interest, as well as troubled him - for Bono’s desires mostly revolved around their new world below, whereas Edge’s desires revolved around . . .not the new world below.

Life, however, remained mostly unchanged - somewhat boring, even, though Edge was hesitant to admit such a thing. But when he spotted Adam crossing the cloud, Edge could not help but seek him out, for no matter how still things became, he knew Adam could always be counted on for entertainment.

“Oh, hello,” said Adam when Edge grabbed his arm. “I was just looking for Larry. We . . .well, you do not need to know about that. So, how are things?”

Adam’s choice of words left Edge feeling rather suspicious, he was almost sure. He had never actually experienced such a feeling, but had heard about it from Larry. “Where have you two even been?” he asked. “I feel like I have seen neither of your faces for . . .eons? Am I correct in using that word?”

“Maybe, but hush, we are not yet meant to know of it. If Father finds out . . .” Adam let out a choked laugh, then stopped. “Well, I do not actually know what He might do. I have never really spent much quality time with Him, in fact. It is always just business.” Looking far, far toward an obscure cloud, Adam murmured, “My Father is distant, Edge, and I am unsure of why. Do you think He resents me?”

Edge was not yet quite mature enough to involve himself in such matters, but knew he had to say something. “What? No, He loves you.”

“Has He told you that?”

“Oh, He says it constantly, Adam, in fact He has said it so much that I tire of hearing it.” Edge’s voice was soothing, but inside he was beginning to unravel, for it was most strange for him to have told a single lie, and yet, once he had started he was unsure if he would be able to stop. Though it felt good to see Adam so pleased, he had to admit. But he also knew that if he did not stop now, Father would soon find out and punish him accordingly.

He supposed. Truthfully, Edge had never been punished before, but he had heard about it from Larry.

Quickly, before his tongue could twist his words once more, Edge again asked, “Where have you two been, really?”

“Oh. Yes, right. Larry and I, well, we have . . .” Adam trailed off, shooting Edge a rueful grin. “Does it matter? Larry and I do not really play an important part in this narrative, after all.”

“That is fair,” said Edge, before leaving Adam to be lost once more on the outskirts of said narrative. 

Soon he found Bono, and heaven once more began to make sense. “Edge,” said Bono, but his gaze was elsewhere. “There is a newbie over there that I wish for you to look upon, but do not make it obvious.”

Edge was unsure of how to accomplish such a task, for he knew only how to look with both his eyes straight on until he could fully appreciate the image he was looking upon. But he tried his best. “Which one?”

Bono’s wings bristled, though his voice remained even as he said, “The one playing the yellow harp, Edge!”

“Oh,” said Edge. “That is Angel Chris. He is new on the scene.”

Bono’s mouth twisted, his eyes hard as he pretended to look anywhere but the new angel. “Where did he get the harp from?” he wondered. “I am the only one in Heaven with a harp. Edge, did Father give him the harp? Why is it yellow?”

Edge shrugged. “I hear he likes yellow.”

Bono looked most displeased. “When I look upon him, I feel ill at ease, Edge, in a way I cannot explain. For one thing, his face appears fresher than my own. And his wings, Edge, do you see his wings?”

“I thought I was not supposed to cast my gaze his way?” Edge asked. Reaching out both hands, Bono bodily turned Edge until they were both peering upon the angel with the yellow harp. 

“Look at his wings,” Bono hissed, and Edge looked. They appeared very winglike, though Edge was not the correct Archangel to judge. For there was only one pair of wings he desired to look upon, and those wings were currently brushing up against his own. “They are fluffier than mine, no? Are they not fluffier and whiter than mine, Edge?”

“I-”

“I hear the mutterings of the lesser angels sometimes, Edge,” Bono cut in darkly, “when they think I am not listening. Angel Piers says that I am getting a little long in the wing, and I am unsure of how to take that. What do you think?”

“I-”

“Holy Hannah, he is coming our way, appear normal, Edge,” Bono whispered, and the both of them straightened as they watched the angel Chris head their way. “More normal, Edge, appear  _ more  _ normal.”

Edge was at a loss. Normal was not a word he knew well, nor was it a state he had much experience with. Unsure of how to proceed, Edge decided to just smile widely and hope for the best.

“Very good,” said Bono, drolly. “Blind him with the shine of your teeth, a very smart response.”

“Thank you?” said Edge. Bono just shook his head, but before he could find his voice once more, the angel Chris was upon them.

“Oh, my Father,” exclaimed Chris as he extended a wing toward Bono. It was a slightly suspicious glance he received, yet still Bono offered his own wing up for stroking. “Excuse me, but when I saw you,  _ the  _ Archangel Bono, in the very flesh, I had to come over and pay my dues. I am such a fan.”

“Well,” said Bono, and Edge could not help but notice the way his wings had puffed up, ever so slightly. “That is very kind of you, of course. This is The Archangel Edge by my side, naturally.”

“Naturally,” Chris agreed, though it was the slightest of glances he cast Edge’s way. “Oh, Archangel Bono, I am but a humble angel, of course, and have no business in approaching you-”

“Think nothing of it,” Bono said with a wave of the hand. “I do not think myself as better than any of you. My wish is that we all live together, as one.”

“Wow,” said Chris, and Edge recognized that look in his eye. It was one he had seen only in his own reflection. “You are very grounded, for an Archangel.”

“Yes,” said Bono. “I am.”

“He is very involved in matters dealing with the lesser angels,” Edge added, and for some reason the word  _ lesser  _ came out harsher than the rest. “For he understands that, as an Archangel, he is privileged in comparison.”

“Yes,” said Bono. “I will admit that I am privileged. And. . .”

“And,” Edge continued, “such privilege allows him the opportunity to, maybe not  _ fix  _ all of the problems, but certainly raise awareness toward certain plights that the lesser angels face. Certainly, he should be applauded.”

“Well,” Bono said, “I do not do such things for praise. But-”

“Wow,” said Chris. “I want to be just like you.”

Again, Bono’s wings puffed up, and Edge could not help but notice the way his smile appeared - slow at first, and slightly crooked, slightly bashful, but certainly appreciative. Moreover, Edge could not help but notice the way that smile was not directed toward him. “That is very kind of you,” said Bono. “I notice you were playing a harp, and I admit that I am curious to hear what sort of tunes you are playing. May I?”

“Oh my Father,” breathed Chris. “I would be so honoured. After all, I am your biggest fan.”

“Oh, stop,” Bono said with a laugh, but his gaze said otherwise.

“Seriously. I have listened to all of your records. I know all of your songs. I even have a poster of you hanging above my cloud. You know, the one where you are clad only in the skin our Father has provided you, yet your most sacred of body parts are being hidden by the curve of your wings.” 

“Yes,” said Bono. “I know the one. I am most grateful to brother Anton for choosing to use colour in that shot.”

“Indeed, for the blue of your eyes is most captivating,” Chris said, and the way Bono chuckled, awkward and slightly unsure, told Edge that he was no longer a factor in the conversation. Still, it would have been most rude to just up and leave, so he hovered there, and if his gaze was somewhat hardened toward the angel Chris . . .

Edge could not think of an excuse. He could not think of much at all, so he just continued to stare at Chris. Hard. For he had not felt such a feeling before, one that twisted his stomach and made him consider all the different ways Chris might accidentally fall from a cloud - so far, he had three that were logical as well as forgivable . . . perhaps - but he knew, for certain, that it was not entirely a feeling to which he might dwell on. Though, Edge had to admit, it was somewhat enjoyable. 

They continued to stand; Bono and Chris looking at each other, and Edge looking at Chris. Hard.

“Well,” said Bono. “This has become sufficiently awkward, it seems. Shall we wander toward your harp, brother Chris?”

“I would love that,” said Chris. “For I am your biggest fan.”

“Yes,” said Bono, somewhat tiredly. “You said that already.”

Edge watched them walk away, unsure of whether he should follow - for Bono had said neither  _ stay  _ nor  _ come  _ \- and it was not until they were at a distance where Bono’s mighty hearing would hear him no longer that Edge felt it right to open his mouth and say, in a voice that was as dark as he had ever known, “No, _ I _ am his biggest fan.”

The words were heard by no one but Edge alone, and he preferred it that way - for he too had listened to the angels speak when they thought he was not aware, and although he was unsure of the true meaning of the word  _ crazy _ , Edge was wise enough to figure that it was not entirely a good thing.

“I am fine,” he announced, loud enough for a gaggle of angels to hear. The looks he received were most strange indeed, and as the angels hurriedly continued on away from him, Edge found himself feeling unsure of his place in the clouds.

Such a feeling was most unwelcome.

And so it was, that Edge wandered the Heavens for a time, presumably, searching for a distraction. None was to be found, and when Bono did come to him, it was nice but brief, and Edge missed him terribly, for even when he was there, Bono remained distant. At the beginning, Edge thought it was because of the angel Chris, but after finding Bono, again and again, looking over the clouds to watch the Earth come to be, Edge found himself starting to wonder. Moreover, Edge found himself starting to fear. Mostly, though, Edge found himself lonely.

It was a strange concept, loneliness, and he did not enjoy it at all. 

When a meeting was called, Edge was almost joyful, for as boring as they could be, at the very least he would be able to brush wings with Bono - not on purpose, because he never set out to do such a thing. It just seemed to happen, when they were together.

Bono was already in his seat when Edge entered the hall, and he did not look to be of an entirely sound mind. “Hey,” said Edge as he sat down.

“Hey,” Bono replied. “How are you?”

“Oh, fine, fine. You?”

Bono sighed. “I wish I knew, Edge.”

It was not a response Edge had anticipated, but still he felt he had to persevere. “Tell me your troubles.”

“I cannot,” Bono said, “for I am not entirely sure I understand them myself.”

“Oh,” said Edge. “That is not good.”

Bono agreed with a muted, “No,” and then they were silent, watching the angels as they began to file in. “Do you think Larry and Adam will come?”

“Adam might,” Edge said, and Bono turned to him with a grin.

“Do you want to bet on it?”

It left Edge speechless, though when he found his words all he could manage was, “Keep your voice down when saying such things.”

Bono patted him on the knee as an act of reassurance, though his voice was of a different tone entirely, “I will try my best, Edge, but I cannot make promises.”

No, such words were not reassuring. Not in the slightest. 

“Okay,” Edge let out numbly, before turning to face the stage. It seemed as though Bono had no more words in him, besides a short  _ hello  _ when Adam did in fact arrive - alone - and Edge was somewhat relieved, though also a little worried. For when Bono fell silent, Edge knew, it was never a good sign.

Their Father appeared soon after, with a wide smile on His face. “So,” Paul said, “what do you think of the Earth? It is beautiful, is it not?”

“It is,” Bono called out. “Though I still think it needs something else.”

The smile on their Father’s face stayed frozen, even as He said, “We’ve been over this, Bono.”

“I know,” Bono shot back. “In private. Again and again. But Father, I want to discuss it once more, with an audience this time.”

Adam sat up in his seat. “Oh _boy_ ,” he said. “Larry is going to be sore he missed this.”

“Be quiet,” Edge hissed, and he was not entirely sure if he was talking to Adam or Bono. Or his Grace, which was racing deep inside of him. 

“I will not be quiet, Edge,” Bono said loudly as he stood up, and for a moment the gaze of their Father fell upon Edge. Such a look left Edge sinking down into his seat, and he found himself glancing toward the nearest exit, wondering if he could make it before Father or Bono stopped him. “I have something to say, and Father will not listen!”

Their Father raised his hands. “Bono,” He said pleadingly. “My son. You are making a scene.”

“Yeah, and so what?” Bono retorted. “Are You worried that I will expose You for what You are?”

“Oh my Father,” Adam murmured. “This is everything right now.” Then, in a voice loud enough for all to hear, he asked, “And what is that, brother? What exactly are you accusing Father of?”

“Well . . .” Bono trailed off, looking as though he had run out of steam. Silently, Edge was thankful. “Just that, well for example, you _alllll_ remember Him saying that we should view Heaven as more of a democracy, right?”

“Right,” Adam said. “Never believed it myself, but go on.”

“Adam,” warned Paul.

“Yet whenever I have an idea, He shoots me down,” Bono continued, waving an accusing finger. “It is maddening, Father, You gift me with all of this creativity, and yet You will not let me do a thing with it!”

“That is not true, Bono,” said Paul. “What about your little harp, huh? I let you play with that. You love that harp. You play it so well.”

“And we are eternally grateful for your gift of music, Bono,” a voice appeared behind them, and Edge did not have to turn to know it was Chris. Which was probably a good thing, since he was not sure if he would be able to turn at all. For he was frozen, gone stiff, unable to do anything but watch the drama unfold in front of him.

“See?” said Paul. “Your fans still love you.”

“But Father, I am sick of _just_ being a musician, I know I can do so much more!” Bono exclaimed. “You gave me that harp eons ago, surely it is time for me to challenge myself elsewhere?”

Their Father let out an awkward laugh. “Eons? My dear boy, how do you know of that word when I have not yet finalized my creation of the passage of time . . .and even if I had, it certainly has not been  _ eons _ .” Rubbing his godly mouth, their Father stopped briefly to consider His words. Bono waited, somewhat impatiently, for as incensed as he was at his Father, still he had been trained well in the art of reverence. “Also, there is a chance that time is merely a concept, I have not yet decided.”

“I saw the plans,” Bono said righteously. “They were in the top drawer of your desk. Really, Father, if you already know I am fond of snooping, then why leave such hidden things in the most obvious of places?”

Their Father did not respond, though His face began to resemble that of a tomato - or so Edge assumed, anyway. He had not yet cast his gaze on a tomato, but Larry had informed them both once, rather flippantly, “Tomatoes are red, that is really all you need to know. I continue to be undecided on whether they are a delicacy, though Adam seems to really like them.”

“Incredible,” Bono had said. “What is red?”

Larry had rubbed his forehead and sighed. “Come with me,” he had muttered. “I think I have the blueprints in my office still.”

“Bono,” said Paul after a time, though that time was not, in fact, an eon as it turned out. “Tell me straight. What is it that you want, truly?”

“I want . . .” Bono fell quiet, thinking it through. The crowd was silent, all eyes on him. Adam appeared as though he was witnessing the greatest thing since the creation of Earth, excited as he was. Edge just wished as though the cloud below would swallow him up. “Father, You have mentioned that You plan to create beings, those of which would inhabit the Earth.”

“ . . .I did say that, yes.”

“Well.” Bono stood tall, his wings puffing up as high as they could go. “I wish to join them, so that I might teach them my ways; the ways of being kind and loving. It is what they deserve. And,” he shrugged, “after all this time, it is what I deserve.”

“I see,” Paul said flatly. “Well, no, that is not actually going to happen, Bono. I am sorry, I truly am, but your path is, as it always has been-”

“Oh, to hell with this,” Bono cut in, turning to face the crowd. “Is anyone else sick of this? Honestly, it has been  _ eons  _ of the same thing, over and over, just Him saying one thing and then doing another, and the promises, Oh my _Father_ , the empty promises He makes!”

“Bono-”

“No,” Bono turned back to face their Father, shaking his head as he said, “I am done, Father. I am so done with You, and with all of this. I have so many plans, so many things I wish to achieve, and yet You will not let me spread my wings and do as such. I . . . I am leaving.”

“What?” Their Father stepped forward, looking more frazzled than Edge had ever seen Him. “You cannot leave.”

“I can,” said Bono defiantly. “And I am. Leaving. I am leaving, Father, try and stop me. Just try.”

“Oh my Father, oh my Father,” Adam was muttering, again and again at his side, and yet, as Edge sat there watching Bono and their Father, he found himself feeling somewhat . . .strange indeed. 

A different kind of strange. 

“And you,” Bono said, turning back to the crowd, “all of you can come with me if that is what you wish. For I have plans. Great plans, of a place far, far better than this. Who is with me?!” The crowd stayed silent, and after a time, Bono tried again. “I really do have a plan. I think you would all be pleasantly surprised. Anyone?” There was a muted cough. “Chris?”

“Oh, um,” came the voice of Chris, “look Bono, the thing is, I am just really into my music right now, and . . . I mean, I love you, you know I do, but I am starting to get a following here, and I would really like to see how far I can take this, you know?”

“I see,” said Bono. Throwing a swift glance toward the stage, Edge found their Father with the beginnings of a smile on His face.

“The angels are wise to remain, Bono,” Paul said with a mighty spread of His arms, “for there is no better place for you all but here, with your Father. I do not want you to go, you must know that. You are my son-”

“And the favourite,” Adam cut in, receiving a steely look from their Father. “Well, it is not exactly a secret, Father."

“Hush, Adam,” said Paul before turning back to face Bono. “He is right, though, Bono. And I do not wish for you to leave me. If you do choose to stay, then we will put this whole mess behind us. It will be as though it never happened. What do you think?” He offered Bono the kindest of smiles. “Stay with us, Bono. Stay.”

For a time, Edge thought as though Bono might do just that, as twisted as his face appeared. But then he was shaking his head and turning to look at Adam. “What do you think? You want to come?”

“Oh!” Adam straightened slightly, offering Bono a sheepish grin. “I would, but I have this whole thing going on up here, and . . . well, I cannot vouch for Larry, but I would think he would also have that very same thing, and - well, yeah. But listen, you keep in touch now, alright?”

Bono’s eyes narrowed. “Fine,” he said haughtily. “I shall just go by myself then!”

“Bono, come on,” Paul pleaded. “Seriously-” 

“No, I am leaving now. Farewell family.” Turning back toward the angels, Bono gave a prolonged wave. “I wish you well, I hope you all know that. Truly, I do.” Hand over his Grace now, he looked over his angels one last time, a fond little smile on his face. And then, without a second glance towards their Father, Bono started for the door. Over his shoulder, he called out, “Are you coming, Edge?”

It was an odd feeling, knowing that every single gaze in the room was suddenly directed toward him, but Edge was used to strange feelings by now. And it was stranger still, despite wanting to sink into the clouds when Bono had started his whole rant, how when he thought it through - and it only took a moment, weighing up the pros and cons even as their Father and the rest of the room watched him expectantly - that the answer seemed quite obvious, in fact. After all, his path was, as always, to follow Bono and support him whichever way the both of them deemed proper.

“Yeah, alright,” said Edge, and the smile Bono sent his way was enough to make his Grace ache all the way through. “Let me just grab my things.”

“Edge, you cannot!” Paul exclaimed.

“You gave me my path, Father, eons ago. I am merely following your bidding,” Edge explained calmly, and the feeling that coursed through his body was new, exciting, and so truly freeing that he wanted to stay with it, always. And he could. He could.

“Wait, you are leaving me alone with  _ Larry _ ?” Adam looked aghast at the thought, though Edge just shrugged. 

“You made your choice, brother, as I have made my own. Farewell.”

“Holy Hannah,” Adam muttered, but he reached out a wing nonetheless. “Well . . .bye.”

“See ya.”

It was a shame to leave Adam and Larry, truly, and Edge found himself hesitating, casting a look toward Adam that was returned in kind. They had shared eons together, after all. It was hard to say goodbye.

“ _ Eeeedddge _ .”

And yet . . . 

“I am coming, keep your halo on,” Edge muttered, though still a smile appeared on his face, growing wider as he started toward Bono.

“This cannot be happening,” said Paul. He sounded numb, and Edge felt terrible, for a time, but when he saw the way Bono was looking at him, he knew that he was making the right choice. “This  _ cannot  _ be happening.”

“Are you ready?” asked Bono when Edge joined him at the exit.

“No,” Edge replied truthfully, “but I am with you nonetheless.”

Bono offered up only a smile as his response, and it was so bright it was close to blinding, his Grace shining through completely and utterly, in a way that Edge had never experienced. It was true; Bono was the most beautiful of them all, and still they had all let him leave.

Not Edge, though. Not Edge.

Together they left the hall, though as they walked down the path Edge could still hear them all, for a time.

It was Chris who said, “You should not have treated him in such a way,” his voice tentative, and Edge could imagine the way he might have hidden after saying as such, perhaps behind that white column he had been sitting next to.

And if was their father who snapped, “Oh, tell it to your harp.”

And then they were gone, lost to Edge completely as they stepped out of range and towards their future. It was all a memory now, just a memory, and such a thought was completely terrifying, and yet not, and when Edge glanced at Bono he found him looking as serene as he had ever appeared. “So, do you really have a plan?” he asked Bono.

Chuckling, Bono said, “No, not really,” and that smile, that beautiful blinding smile appeared once more when he gazed at Edge. “We will work something out, though. Together we will, Edge. Together.”

And they did.  
  



End file.
